


You're Dead and Out of this World

by shocked_into_shame



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Biting, Bottom Steve, Dubious Consent, HarringrovePornathon, M/M, Modern AU if you squint, Smallest amount of pain, Vampire AU, also steve calls billy master haha, billy talks like what he thinks a vampire sounds like even though he was turned in 85
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: Billy's a vampire and Steve is his familiar, toiling after him with the promise that one day he'll become immortal too. You'd think that Steve would have a certain amount of reverence for the dead - but all he can muster is annoyance these days.Day 2 of Harringrove Pornathon





	You're Dead and Out of this World

**Author's Note:**

> i stole the lore and the theme song of what we do in the shadows so sue me
> 
> kink: pain play (If you squint)   
> AU: VAMPIRES 
> 
> also things are dubious because billy has vampire mind powers and isn't afraid to use them to make steve horny and naked im JUST SAYING
> 
> *i hope it doesn't suck*

Steve knocks on the dark, mahogany coffin with a thud. No response. He sighs and rubs at his hair, a hand on his hip. He knocks again, his fist pounding against the wood with an even louder boom. 

 

“Master?” he asks, tentatively, fiddling with the hem of his henley. “The sun is down. It’s time to wake up.”

 

This, he thinks, is possibly one of the worst - if not  _ the _ worst - aspects of being Billy Hargrove’s familiar. Every night he has to close the windows, pull down the shades, make sure the house is in tip top shape, and then he has to fucking wake the dead. 

 

No, like the actual dead. Billy is  _ actually  _ dead. And fucking cranky in the mornings (evenings?). So waking him up is like playing Russian roulette. Sometimes he’ll spring out of his coffin, eyes bright, and ask Steve to go out around the town with him, seeing what kind of trouble they can get into at night. 

 

Other times he will hiss and curse the day Steve was born - _February 1st, 1996, the most unholy of all days._ Steve’s gotten used to it, mostly. There are very rarely shivers down his spine. Very rarely is there anymore fear at the fact that he is definitely pissing off an angry, tired vampire who could quite easily kill him. 

 

These days, he is mostly annoyed. 

 

It seems like one of those nights when Billy does not want to be part of the world. Steve considers leaving him like this, letting him sleep for a little longer, but then the coffin creaks open and his master is fixing a bored, sleepy stare at him, his icy, inhumanly blue eyes piercing with their gaze. “Hello, Steve.”

 

“Hi, Master. I hope you slept well.”

 

Billy cocks his head and blinks slowly, impeccable golden curls fanning around his head. “I guess. I was a little chilly.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry, Master. I can bring more blankets to you tomorrow night.”

 

“Good.” Billy floats up and out of his coffin, landing on his feet with a soft thud. Steve resists everything inside of himself not to roll his eyes. He’s been Billy’s familiar for 5 fucking years, and still Billy insists on rubbing all of the skills and talents and  _ abilities _ in Steve’s face at every turn. 

 

It’s maddening. Absolutely fucking maddening. Especially since Steve does not possess these same skills. No, he’s been promised them. Promised that if he works hard enough, serves Billy long enough, that he, too, will become immortal. 

 

He’s beginning to this that shit isn’t going to happen.

 

“Come with me. I want to watch TV.”

 

“Alright, master. I just have to finish tidying the library and then-”

 

Billy fixes him a hard stare. “No. I want you to watch TV with me.” He leaves the room with a dramatic flair of his cloak and Steve, sure that he is out of eyesight, finally gives into the will to roll his eyes. It feels good. 

 

Billy Hargrove was turned into a vampire in 1985 and has been moving around the country since. Five years ago, he plopped himself in Hawkins, Indiana, and when Steve saw him at the mall late one night, he was instantly drawn to him. He didn’t seem like a real person, floating around the mall in skin tight pants and a long leather jacket. 

 

It was because he  _ wasn’t _ a person. Steve only realized this belatedly. 

 

Steve sighs and follows, checking his cell phone as he walks through the long corridor. No new notifications, except for a text from Dustin of a stupid meme of a cat. He sends a laughing emoji and shoves his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans. 

 

Billy is already waiting on the couch, the rich, burgundy fabric of his cloak billowing around him. 

 

This cloak thing is getting kind of old. It isn’t as though Billy is from a time period when wearing cloaks was still a thing. It stands out - wrong - against the curly mane of Billy’s blonde hair and the tiny wooden dagger earring he wears every day. 

 

The wooden dagger thing is Billy’s sick attempt at humor. 

 

_ Twilight _ is playing on the television. Billy sends Steve a toothy grin. This, too, is an attempt at humor. Steve wants to take that stupid fucking wooden earring and stab Billy in the jugular with it approximately 10 billion times. 

 

Instead, he takes a deep breath and sits down beside Billy, letting his body relax into the cushions. It’s been a long day of cleaning and getting rid of dead bodies. He needs a little rest. But he keeps a distance between him and his master. Billy turns his head and glares. 

 

“Come closer, Steve. I don’t bite.”

 

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “Yes, you do.”

 

Billy smiles, baring his long canines. He licks his bottom lip and it takes everything inside of Steve not to follow the movement with his eyes. “You’re right,” Billy admits before letting out a full bodied laugh. It’s disconcerting. Kind of evil. And maybe the tiniest bit endearing. “I do.”

 

Regardless, Steve shuffles closer to him on the couch, so close that their bodies press together. Steve shivers at the rush of cold coming from Billy and tries his hardest to enjoy watching Edward Cullen sparkle. 

 

It isn't as though he can't admit the attraction to himself. It's buried there - somewhere under the annoyance and disgust - and in times like these, close up, it wallops him. Billy is stunning. Pale, alabaster skin and dark, long eyelashes fanning around ice blue eyes. A strong body - solid - makes for an imposing figure. Steve might want to do something about it, if he could just stop being pissed all the time. If Billy could be just a little  _less annoying_ and a little more  _turning him into a vampire._

 

He must begin to drift off, because he is suddenly jolted by a harsh, inhumanely strong shove. His eyes fly open and he loses his breath. “Stay awake, Steve. I may need you to do something for me.”

 

_Might need to tell you what to do some more._ “Sorry, Master. I’m just tired, I guess. I had a long day.” Steve rubs at his face and pushes down a scream. 

 

“Well, that’s your job. You have a long day so I can have a long night. We’ve been over this.”

 

“I know, Master-”

 

“And, if you continue with this insolence” - Billy likes throwing in SAT words into his dialogue from time to time. Steve thinks he likes it because it makes him feel centuries old and more important than he actually is, as though he didn’t become a vampire when mullets were an acceptable fashion choice and Wham! was making hits. “You will never become a vampire.”

 

It’s like a kick to his chest. It stings. Steve has put up with  _ this _ for too damn long. He can't be fucked to care about propriety anymore.  “Well,” he mutters, taking on the most disrespectful tone he’s ever dared to use with Billy. “I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter. I’m starting to think I’m never becoming a vampire anyway.”

 

The reaction is instantaneous. In another world, it might be comical. Billy’s eyebrows fly up to his forehead and he’s up in a flash, cape billowing around him. He stares Steve down, gaze harsh. Steve feels real fear bubbling up in his stomach. “What makes you think that it’s okay to speak to me like that?” Billy spits out, his blonde curls falling into his face as he leans forward, hissing. “Remember your place, boy. I could end you in a second.”

 

Steve scoffs and leans back on the couch. _Act casual_. “So why haven’t you yet? You aren’t going to turn me into a vampire. I’m sick of you bossing me around and acting like a jackass all the time. So why don’t you just fucking _end me_ already?”

 

Billy snarls and leans forward, hauling Steve up and off the couch by his upper arms. Steve thinks  _ fuck, this is it _ . He’s done it now. He prepares himself for the painful bite of teeth in his neck. 

 

But the pain doesn’t come. Instead, he feels the cool press of plush lips to his throat, tongue darting out to lick at the skin there. A moan tumbles out of his mouth without his permission, and Billy’s sharp, black-painted fingernails dig into the sides of his arms. 

 

“You are delicious, boy,” Billy whispers against the skin of his throat. It should be terrifying. Instead, it makes Steve harden in his jeans. “You have traipsed about this house for five fucking years, taunting me at every turn. I have resisted. I don’t usually  _ fuck _ humans. But I can’t resist you any longer.”

 

“Oh, God,” Steve gasps out. 

 

“No, not God,” Billy murmurs coldly, brushing off his cape to reveal a partially unbuttoned, velvet shirt in a deep raven fabric. Steve wants to reach out and touch. “Just me.” 

 

It's dizzying - startling - how quickly the atmosphere of the room changes. How quickly there's haze in Steve's brain and tingling in his fingertips. Annoyance melts away, replaced only by an onslaught of lust. 

 

“Master…” Steve sighs as Billy begins to take off his shirt, revealing milky skin that Steve suddenly wants to press desperate kisses to. He thinks he might be under a vampiric spell, wrapped up in one of Billy’s mind tricks, but he can’t be bothered to fight it, not when the gorgeous skin of his master’s chest is on show. 

 

Things happen so quickly that Steve can barely process what is going on. He’s suddenly in Billy’s lap, naked as the day he was born, his thighs spread over Billy’s own. He shivers yet again, bare to the coolness of the room and Billy’s frigid skin against his. 

 

Billy’s big hands press against his back just as he leans in and begins to kiss at Steve’s neck again. He tips his head back with a sigh, daring to reach his hands up and entwine his fingers in the curly hair at the nape of Billy’s skull. Billy’s eyes dart up at him,  _ a warning _ , and, emboldened, Steve tightens his grip, tugging slightly. It’s not enough to hurt, not really, but Billy is still hissing as he does it, staring up at him with wide, manic eyes. It’s terrifying. It’s beautiful.

 

“You’re getting brave now.”

 

“I think you promised to fuck me, Master,” the words spill out and Billy groans, a low, rumbling sound that makes Steve leak from the tip of his cock. 

 

Dry, cool fingers press against his entrance and Billy looks at him intensely. He murmurs, “Loosen up for me, pretty boy.” 

 

He must be using hypnosis because Steve’s muscle unclenches instantly, and he loosens up to the point that Billy is able to shove three fingers in him with no pain. Or, maybe with  _ some _ pain. He can’t be fucked to care. 

 

“So warm,” Billy mutters, continuing to lap at Steve’s jugular with his tongue. That should be unnerving, having a vampire that close to his neck, but what he’s doing feels so fucking good. The rough pads of Billy’s fingertips press against a spot inside of him that makes him see stars, makes him throw his head back, his brown hair waving wildly around his head. “Look at you,” Billy murmurs, continuing to move his fingers in and out of Steve’s entrance. “So beautiful. I have to have you.”

 

“Have me then, Master,” Steve gasps, tingling in his fingers and his toes. The stretch and burn of his thighs, the painful press of Billy’s fingers within him makes him shiver in pleasure. It’s too good. It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

 

Billy lifts him with ease and then he’s sinking down on his master’s hard cock, feeling the cool, unyielding pressure as he enters him, dry as a bone. He cries out unwittingly and Billy really doesn’t seem to care, thrusting up into him instantly and groaning out deliriously. It hurts. Steve might not even be hard anymore. He doesn’t know. 

 

He feels so good. Better than he’s ever felt. Billy continues to fuck into him relentlessly, pressing up into that spot over and over until Steve’s a mess of sweat and tears and drool. It’s animal, the way Billy fucks, and he loses all traces of composure. He’s normally so tightly wound, each movement and each gaze cool and calculated. He’s turned into a shaking, growling mess under the stretch of Steve’s thighs. 

 

It doesn’t startle Steve when it happens. No, it’s gentle, and warm, as teeth pierce into his neck like a knife into softened butter. It’s so easy, really, so  _ easy _ for Billy to clamp down on Steve’s neck and begin sucking like he’s a man dying of thirst. Steve comes instantly, the sensation washing over him in waves, his cock sputtering weakly between their bodies. His eyes are beginning to cross, his hands going limp, as Billy continues to groan and suck at his throat. He’s distantly aware of Billy coming beneath him, into his body.

 

He’s dying. It occurs to him very suddenly. He’s lost a lot of blood. He can’t survive this. He can’t be bothered to care, not when there is a delicious thrum in his head, his limbs turned to jello.

 

He can practically see the  _ light _ . 

 

And then Billy is pressing his wrist against Steve’s mouth and murmuring for him to  _ drink _ and a tangy, viscous fluid fills his mouth. He grimaces against his will. 

 

_ Billy’s blood _ , it occurs to him, and then he’s grabbing at his forearm, sucking at Billy’s wound weakly. As he drinks, he feels the slightest bit of strength begin to return to his body, and once he’s done Billy carries him to his coffin, almost tenderly, if he didn’t know any better. 

 

“Sleep, now,” he murmurs, pressing a cool hand to the feverish skin of Steve’s forehead. God, he didn’t realize it before, but his face is on fire. He wants the cold press of Billy’s skin back, and he reaches blindly for his hand. Billy obliges him, pressing his cool palm against Steve’s cheek. “When you awaken, you’ll be like me.”

 

“Thank you, Master,” Steve whimpers, and feels the soft caress of sleep overtake him. 

 

When he opens his eyes, he’s no longer human. 

  
  



End file.
